


i'd let you had i known it

by harperuth



Series: i met you in the summer [7]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gun Kink, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, a little bit of, whirl is the one doing the rimming if you wanna come see how i made that work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: “Absolutely genius,” Whirl cooed, “You’re gonna make me so quick.”Brainstorm ignored the fissure of charge that flashed through his frame. His wings fluttered. He grinned behind his face plate.
Relationships: Brainstorm/Whirl (Transformers)
Series: i met you in the summer [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828810
Comments: 12
Kudos: 84





	i'd let you had i known it

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt 'praise kink' with whirl/brainstorm
> 
> title from 'say so' by doja cat

“Primus, ain’t you _beautiful_?”

Brainstorm kept the twitch the glyphs inspired localized to his wings. Whirl kept running his claws over the new fast twitch trigger patch Brainstorm had presented proudly when Whirl crashed through his doors. It was a kind of game, making sure to have something new for Whirl every time he showed up, but never knowing _when_ that was.

“Absolutely genius,” Whirl cooed, “You’re gonna make me so _quick_.”

Brainstorm ignored the fissure of charge that flashed through his frame. His wings fluttered. He grinned behind his face plate. Whirl held the patch up to the light, “And you made it so tiny!”

A warm frisson bloomed through Brainstorm’s backstrut. He did. He made it so small and fast and Whirl _liked it_.

Brainstorm startled out of his processor when his aft hit the edge of a table. At some point, Whirl had crowded him against it. He blinked. Whirl seemed...unmistakably smug.

“Ya know, it took me and Legs a while to piece it together.” Whirl’s optic curved up into a crooked crescent.

“You and, uh?” Brainstorm leaned back as far as he could, but there was no escaping the jut of Whirl’s cockpit. It pressed against his chest in a way that was nicer than he was up to acknowledging at the moment. Or ever. Ever was good too.

“Legs.” Whirl shrugged, which was always an interesting motion to witness on him. Brainstorm’s processor trailed off into joint calibrations before he could stop it and he almost missed Whirl’s next glyphs. “Tailgate. Hadda learn to read wings, because you flyers are tetchy as Pits some days.”

Wings.

Oh _slag_.

“I, uh—” Brainstorm realized even as he stammered that his wings were held low and wide, a _look at me, notice me, not a threat, pretty pretty, pretty yes? notice, nice_. They’d been jerking themselves into a pleased _yes thank you pretty thank you_ every time Whirl complimented his work. Oh, slag. “Well, um. Wings.”

“Yeah.” Whirl’s vocalizer dipped lower, and hotter, and Brainstorm felt his wings twitch. If Whirl had a mouth, Brainstorm was sure he’d be smiling right now. “Is it just your wings that like when I tell your weapons how pretty they are, or is the rest of ya too?”

“I—” Brainstorm knew his face was heating up enough that it had to be evident even beyond the faceplate. “No, not, um, not just my wings.”

“Thought so.” The very tip of Whirl’s claw came up and traced the thin transteel of Brainstorm’s wing biolights. “Hard not to notice. Ostentatious things, ain’t they?”

Brainstorm squirmed, unsure if he wanted to press into the touch or pull away. Whirl kept going, just as carefully as if Brainstorm were a new blaster he was getting acquainted with. “Not like the art that you make me. You know just the right line to strike between gorgeous and practical, don’t you?”

Brainstorm didn’t deny the zing of charge through his systems, a small, broken noise escaping his vocalizer. Whirl’s optic flicked to his, undeniably pleased. His frame finally decided without him that Whirl’s touch was exactly what he wanted and that more of it would be great, thanks. 

“Oh.” Whirl’s optic brightened. “So that's the score, huh?”

“What?” Brainstorm squirmed, trying to press into Whirl while his wings demanded enough room to flick a happy _yes yes look touch yes touch yes_. 

“Shoulda seen how good that scope you gave me last quartex worked last time we went planetside,” Whirl said instead of an answer. Or that was the answer, because Brainstorm tried to take a moment to order his processor and realized he'd fallen into his interface protocols at some point, far enough through that they weren't stopping. 

“Ah!” He twisted, scraping his chest against Whirl’s cockpit again for the sheer pleasure of shirring metal. 

“Hey.” Whirl scraped down the flat of one of his wings with the back of his claw. “Turn around.”

Brainstorm didn’t think, for once in his processor’s busy existence, and did just that. Whirl ducked his wings then apparently kept going down if the nuzzle at Brainstorm’s lower backstrut was any indicator. “What?”

“Mm.” Whirl’s optic housing pushed at his plating affectionately, trailing from his lower backstrut over to his left wing hinge. “You one’a those fancy builds? All hyper efficient and slag?”

“No?” Brainstorm’s spark cycled faster, caught up in his interface protocols and secrets. This, at least, was true. 

“Cool,” Whirl said, “I like my interface simpler than my weapons. You deliver on all fronts, don't ya, Stormy?”

Brainstorm couldn't stop the whine that was his systems gearing for takeoff before abruptly being petered out by the fact that he was _in root mode_. Something about Whirl’s words were throwing him into a complete tailspin. He struggled for something, anything. “Special just for you.”

Slag, not that. 

“For _me_?” Whirl sounded somehow delighted and completely unsurprised. “Guess no one else knows how to appreciate your craft correctly.”

Whirl tapped Brainstorm’s panel. Brainstorm collapsed forward, elbow joints braced on the table. His wings snapped up, tilting back as far as they could so Whirl could still see them, could see how Brainstorm was _pretty yes yours pretty_. A schematic for his current project lit up, the hologram blinding him for a moment until it registered his proximity and moved back. Whirl tapped again, but his optic housing craned around Brainstorm’s side to look. 

“Oo,” He whistled. Somehow. Brainstorm was fast losing all processing ability for non-standard input. Whirl whistling was definitely filed under non-standard. “What's that?”

“BFG-W-42,” Brainstorm said, every part of his awareness rapidly diverting to the small, almost bored _tap tap tap_ on his panel. “Prototype.”

“It’s _gorgeous_ ,” Whirl said, voice utterly captivated. Brainstorm’s panel retracted without his conscious execution. “Tell me about it. What do the letters mean?”

“Big—” Brainstorm gasped as the blunt backs of Whirl’s claws parted his mesh and rubbed up against his valve entrance. They stopped moving. 

“Keep talking,” Whirl said. 

“Big Fragging Gun!” Brainstorm yelped, squirming as much as he was able against Whirl’s claw. “Whirl. Forty second—oh Primus—forty second iteration!”

“That's for me?” Whirl asked, leaning closer around Brainstorm. 

He keened, rocking his hips down against Whirl. “Yes.”

“Forty two designs, huh?” Whirl pulled his claw away and Brainstorm stifled a sob.

“Needs to be—” Brainstorm couldn't silence his vocalizer if he _tried_ right now. His wings were just as useless, turning a steady message of _frag me yours frag me yours frag me_. “Gotta make it perfect!”

Whirl was suspiciously quiet behind him. Brainstorm couldn't stop twitching, plating flaring out at random intervals in invitations to touch, wings still blaring _frag me frag me yours yours_. His truncated takeoff sequence fired again at the soft touch to his aft port. 

“Whirl?” Brainstorm tried to look behind him, but couldn't see past his traitorous wings. 

“Yeah, sweetspark?” Whirl’s voice had dropped a register and the octave was enough to roll through Brainstorm’s plating and hit his protoform. He shivered. 

“What—?” He tried asking, but the soft touch on his aft port coalesced into something latching onto the very edge and _sucking_ , and his elbows gave out. His forehelm hit the desk with a thunk, entire frame trying to undulate back into that feeling. “Hah!”

“Yeah.” Whirl’s voice was still low and, and _dangerous_ , Brainstorm realized and shivered all over. He was talking like he threatened. And he threatened wielding Brainstorm’s weapons and at some point something in his processor had taken the auditory input and tagged it as ‘Slagging Hot.’ Whirl kept going, to both his chagrin and delight. “Never woulda thought having my intake rerouted would be useful, but now I can do this and watch your pretty wings fall apart.”

His intake? Brainstorm kept pushing back into the soft, sucking motion for a few nanokliks before he put the information together. Whirl’s _intake_ , the one that had been rerouted to his forearm, behind the turbine, was _on his aft port_. Brainstorm’s wings snapped straight up behind him at the jolt of _weird nasty wrong good good good slagging pits good_ that rushed through him. 

“Shame I don't got a whole mouth to taste you with,” Whirl mused, his intake circling slowly around Brainstorm’s port, the edges never lining up so a section of his rim was caught in the suction of Whirl’s intake each time he shifted. “But this is pretty good. Not as good as that BFG looks though.”

The glyphs in that tone of voice shot through Brainstorm’s frame and suddenly he was teetering on the edge of overload. His vocalizer locked down on nothing but static moaning, but his wings twitched a _yes yes close please please close yes_. Whirl’s free claw came up and tapped at his wing hinges. 

“Be a shame to only use something gorgeous like that for killin’.” Whirl’s intake sucked a little harder and his claw tapped at just the right spot to dig in past his plating to the delicate wires that fed Brainstorm’s wings to his sensornet. “Wonder if I could frag you with it.”

Brainstorm screeched, wings snapping out wide fast enough to crack the air around them. He shoved back as best as he was able into Whirl’s intake as overload fried every bit of logic circuitry in his system, and a few other wires with it. It was enough to force him into a whiteout while his processor tried to get everything straightened out again. 

The lab was empty when he was finally able to online his optics. He tried not to be disappointed. He levered himself up from where he’d, seemingly gently at least, collapsed on the floor. He shook his helm and went to dismiss the still floating schematic. 

Slashed across the lab table in front of him with bright orange paint was **_COMM ME WHEN YOU’VE GOT A 43 ♥_**.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking summer heat prompts on twitter [@robopunkcfb](https://twitter.com/robopunkcfb)


End file.
